CHAPTER XXX.
A New Rejoicing—Processions—Change in the Valley—The Odalique’s Grave—The Palace of Eyoub—The State Apartments—Return to Pera.
A couple of days of rest succeeded to the marriage festivities, and during that time all the tents which had fringed the height above Dolma Batchè were transferred to the Valley of the Sweet Waters, whither they were followed by the tumblers, rope-dancers, and jugglers, who had delighted the crowd in the purlieus of the Imperial Palace. A new rejoicing to succeed the bridal fètes; the two younger sons of the Sultan, and eight thousand children, belonging to every class of the Turkish population, from the Pashas to the charcoal-venders of the metropolis and its vicinity, were to be circumcised with much pomp at Kahaitchana. A temporary building, shaped like a crescent, and capable of containing the whole number, had been erected above the upper kiosk, and near the border of the stream, across which a new bridge had been thrown; the pavilion was lined throughout with rich hangings, and well cushioned, and presented a very gay and pretty appearance.
The Sultan entertained the Imperial Family at his Palace on the Barbyses; the Pashas gave daily dinners in their tents; and there was not an araba in Constantinople or Pera that was not in requisition.
After passing to Eyoub in our caïque, we hired a close araba, in which we drove to the valley. The scene was a very animated one; lines of coffee-tents clung to the sides of the heights; groups of women, seated on their mats, were scattered over the greensward; itinerant fruit-merchants wandered to and fro, with their strawberries neatly arranged in small baskets wreathed with oak leaves, and their cherries heaped in pyramids; mohalibè and yahourt were to be seen on all sides: the little fountains of the sherbet-venders were tinkling like distant sheep-bells; and, high above the heads of the crowd, a rope-dancer was balancing himself in mid-air, with his crimson satin vestment flaring in the hot sunshine.
One pretty feature in the scene was the constant succession of scholastic processions; each mosque sending its little troop, headed by an Imam, to parade the valley, and to chant a prayer for the preservation of the Sultan’s sons; after which all the children of the Turkish, Greek, Armenian, Catholic, and Jewish schools, accompanied by their masters, passed before the Sultan, and shared in the festivities, to which they had been especially invited. Nor was the appearance of the Turkish children who assisted at the ceremony less interesting; as they all, save those belonging to the more distinguished families, who wore a vast quantity of gold embroidery about their coats and fèzes, were dressed in a kind of uniform, provided for them by the Sultan; and had their long hair plaited in innumerable braids, and woven together with gold threads, sometimes to a quarter of a yard in breadth.
For the first hour I was exceedingly amused. The Barbyses was alive with caïques—the air was loud with music and laughter—the greensward was crowded with arabas and idlers; and every shady tree had a colony beneath its boughs. But I soon wearied of the coil and confusion by which I was surrounded; the green, fresh, quiet valley had lost all its charm; I could scarcely recognize my favourite spots; nor was it until the close of twilight, when the illuminated glories of the port flashed out like a circle of fire in the distance, that I became reconciled. The moon silvered over the rippling river; the nightingales were loud in the Palace gardens; a million of twinkling stars were relieving the deep blue of the summer sky; while here and there erections of many-coloured light rose flashing out amid the leafy boughs of the crowd-invaded glen. Pashas came and went in their noiseless caïques; dulcimers and tambourines deadened at times the music of the night bird; and the low wind, which heaved the elastic branches of the water willow, and came sighing along the ripple of the sweet river, rendered the valley by night a scene of enchantment.
I wandered to the grave of the Odalique: the moonlight was resting upon the record-stone; and a nightingale, seated amid the branches of the overhanging tree, was breathing out its song of mournful melody: it was far away from the idle throng of revellers, and I was weak enough to be glad that it was so.